Fickle February

Mallard drake out for a walk in the snow, late February. © BCP 2010

Some crazy weather we’re having here in the Big Smoke. Melting. Freezing. Ice breakup in the bay. Freezing again. Last night, snow. Then rain. Temperatures expected to moderate this week. Doesn’t seem to phase our local feathered friends, especially the mallards.

They continue to stand around in the parking lot, barely moving when a car comes too close.

But one male mallard out for a leisurely walk in the snow caught my eye. Here he is in his resplendent glory, complete with bright orange Wellies. How lucky we are to have such fearless, beautiful birds in our midst. They’re all too often passed by, just because they’re so common.

But stop to take a closer look at the drake’s magnificent plumage. It’s a masterpiece by Mother Nature.

© BCP 2010

Penny and Tycho, back in the bay

Tycho, back home in Ashbridge's Bay after a long absence, takes a drink. © BCP 2010

Penny and Tycho, our beloved swan pair, returned to their home at Ashbridge’s Bay over the weekend. They had been gone for weeks, put off, no doubt, by the lack of access to their preferred food source, subaquatic vegetation. With the Coatsworth Cut completely frozen over, and the inner bay around the yacht club the same, their home was not very hospitable. But with a few days of brilliant sunshine, a lot of the ice has broken up, making it easier for the swans to get around and feed.

Not sure where “our beauties” disappeared to for the past few weeks. One observer I met along the path at Ashbridge’s last week told me that she had seen some swans over by Cherry Beach. So I chugged over to check it out. But I’m quite sure the foursome over there did not include our pair. It’s quite likely, I think, that Penny and Tycho might have gone over to the bluffs, or to the Leslie St. spit, but no way of knowing for sure.

Wherever they went, they’re back now, and Mother Nature willing, the bay won’t completely freeze over again, and they’ll stay. P and T are very happy around the usual crowd at Ashbridge’s and have incorporated begging at the boat launch into their daily routines.

While swans shouldn’t eat people food  — it’s very bad for their health — it seems impossible to stop well-meaning folks from enticing them to shore with their loaves of stale bread and past-their-prime hot dog buns. They’re so beautiful everyone wants to see them up close. Feeding them — along with the geese, ducks and gulls in the parking lot — is the easiest way to do that.

Next visit I’ll try to get a good shot of our swans together. But for now, here’s Penny checking me out.

© BCP 2010

At last — enough sun for a sunset!

The CN Tower doesn't look so imposing when seen looking west from Ashbridge's Bay at sunset. © BCP 2010

Today we finally came out of a long stretch of the greyest, most dreary weather I can remember having in some time. And this at a time when we in the frozen east have been seeing glorious pictures of the sun splitting the stones at Whistler, where many of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics are being held. They’re having brilliant sunny skies, producing the kind of light that makes the deep snow covering the forests of Douglas firs on the mountainside seem like a sparkling of diamonds on top of heaps of emeralds.

Here in the Big Smoke, we’ll never have quite that stunning, majestic mountain scenery, but we look for beauty where we find it, eh? And this afternoon, there was beauty to be found in the sunset, no doubt.

The picture above was taken around 6 p.m. (I waited until after the sun actually set over the horizon to avoid getting flare in the shot.) And although it looks benign enough, it was actually hellaciously cold, with a very sharp breeze.

Shortly before the sun disappeared, I walked around what the runners call “The Peanut,” the loop at the far end of the narrow peninsula that forms the tip of Ashbridge’s Bay Park.

Russian olive near the tip of "The Peanut" at Ashbridge's Bay with the pink light of the soon-to-set sun upon it. © BCP 2010

I particularly liked how the dying sun shed its pink light on the Russian olive tree at the end of the park. Gnarly! Earlier in the evening, I walked down the little side path that goes out to a dead end, and spent some time watching the ducks.

Male long-tailed ducks. © BCP 2010

There was a flotilla of long-tails making a huge racket, and there was definitely some very show-offy behaviour going on….Could there have been a bit of courting going on?

The big excitement for me, however, was a brief glimpse of a duck I don’t see much at the bay — the red-breasted merganser (Mergus serrator.)  I saw at least one male and possible two females. With its crazy hair-do, this migratory diving duck looks like a web-footed clown that got lost on the way to the party. Quite a thrill to see. There have been a few pairs of American mergansers around all winter, but this is the first time this winter I’ve seen the red-breasted species. Another very shy bird that stays quite far out in the lake, making it impossible to get a detailed picture, even with a long lens. Maybe I’ll get lucky another day and this duck will make a closer pass towards shore.

A poplar glows red in the late afternoon light of a wintry February day. © BCP 2010

Turning 90 degrees from where the long-tails and mergansers were swimming, I came across a tree that I usually admire in the fall, when its leaves turn a spectacularly rich golden colour. It’s an eastern cottonwood (Populus deltoides deltoides), one of the largest North American hardwood trees. This tree is a lone wild specimen that I think just grew from a seed that managed to germinate in the rough ground of the manmade (read made of concrete chunks) peninsula. I will try to remember to take a photo of this tree when it is wearing its fall finery. It’s something special to behold. Amazing what Mother Nature can do with a heap of concrete slabs.

Soon the buds on this tree will be swelling. If memory serves, they start to get noticeably bigger in March. Another sign spring can’t be too far away. In the meantime, we had — at least for today — a brilliant dose of sunshine to keep us going.

© BCP 2010

Sun, sun where are you?

A male long-tailed duck-- wearing his winter plumage -- in the open water of the Coatsworth Cut today.

If you have seasonal affective disorder, I sure hope you have a sunlamp! Not a scintilla of sunshine in our neck of the world today. Looked in several locations for a glimpse of colour other than the browns of sleeping vegetation and the dull greys of the sky, lake and most everything else today.

Best I could do this afternoon was to get a shot of the extremely lovely long-tailed duck, Clangula hyemalis, wearing his winter colours. If you look closely, you’ll see that there’s a smidgen of pink in his bill. This species of diving duck has a completely different breeding plumage — strangely, it’s much less flashy and much more like the breeding female’s.

Long-tails are actually Arctic ducks that spend much of the winter “down south,” which for them is the Great Lakes. They’re also found along the Atlantic coast in winter.

This species used to go by the common name oldsquaw, which referred to this sea duck’s habit of continuously chattering. Their lovely song — the oow-ooodle-oooh I mentioned in yesterday’s post — can be heard up to a mile away.

Another interesting thing about long-tails is their ability to dive extremely deep. My Smithsonian handbook tells me that these ducks have been caught in fishermen’s nets at a depth of 200 feet. Athough many are lost in these fishermen’s nets, there is no conservation concern: long-tails are considered to be abundant — their numbers are counted in the millions.

In the late spring, our beautiful long-tails will return home, back to their tundra in the  Arctic, where they will nest and breed in freshwater pools in the tundra. I always miss them when they go.

© BCP 2010

Frozen

The bright eye of a male goldeneye gleams in the late afternoon sun shining on the inner bay.

It was a frozen and nearly silent world that greeted me when I went for my walk today near sundown. The sun peeked out for a moment here and there, long enough for me to get this picture of a common goldeneye, (Bucephala clangula). The goldies are cousins to the most adorable ducks in the pond, the buffleheads (Bucephala albeola).

There were only a few pairs of each of these diving ducks around for me to spot, along with a few merganser females, and only a very few pairs of mallards. The usual flock of mallards that hang out in the parking lot were absent tonight, as were the gulls and most of the Canada geese.

So, no loud quacks tonight from annoyed mallards. No shrieking gulls. No geese honking, and for certain not a single songbird on the wing. The only birds I could hear were fairly far out in the lake. Listening carefully, I could hear the repeated calls of the long-tails. (They always sound to me like ooo-ooodle-oo, with uptalking, like Valley Girl-speak, at the end.) The long-tails, formerly known as oldsquaws, (Clangula hymalis) are also cousins of the goldies. More on these beautiful winter diving ducks later.

In the meantime, I wonder how much longer can this infernal cold snap can possibly last? We’re halfway through February already, so the promise that is March is only days away, now. I can hardly wait!

Be sure to check out today’s quote. 

© BCP 2010

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